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Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Self(ish)lessness - Why I'm glad to be a working mother

For the next few weeks, while I'm finishing school and settling into
various other changes in my life, I will be revisiting some older posts
that you may or may not have seen in the archives. I hope to be back
soon with new content. In the meantime, enjoy! And feel free to find me
on Instagram, @kathleenojo.

Taking care of a baby all day is no
trifling task. On the surface they are not complicated creatures - keep
them fed, dry, rested, and entertained - but oh! The physical, but more importantly, the mental energy it takes
to do this day-in day-out should not be underestimated. Your child is just discovering the
world, and can spend 20 minutes smiling at a red coffee cup. You'd think this would be a great opportunity
for us adults to cast aside our cynicism and world-weariness,
rediscover our childlike sense of wonder, and delight along with our
babies at all the mundane details of life.

Sometimes it happens that
way. But let's be real - more often than not, I am not content to spend
my afternoon holding up a spatula for my little one to marvel at. I'm
guilty of sneaking Facebook time on my phone while "playing" on the
floor with my daughter. I find myself occasionally hurrying through the
bedtime ritual in order to get to the wine, novel, and couch waiting
for me on the other side.

Do
I feel bad about this? Sometimes. Not too often. I
am doing my best, and I really do find myself pausing numerous times a
day to be in the moment with my daughter. I see
the world through her eyes, hold her close and smell her, and let my
heart balloon with gratitude.

I am also happy to disengage now and then. The 40-hour work week is
taxing, but sometimes I enjoy being able to throw
myself into the work that crosses my desk. I love my family so much
that when I am home, I am emotionally switched on, all the time. It's
sweet and intense and very, very draining. It's a relief to pack my
heart away for a little while every day, to engage in activities that
come from a place of intellect or routine rather than love and
dedication and selflessness.

Selflessness?
Well. That might be somewhat of an exaggeration. There is so much
pressure on a woman to be selfless - as a daughter, as a wife, as a
mother. Men are born free and live free until the day they decide to
take on the responsibility of a family, and even then, their roles are
clearly defined. Men do what men are supposed to do, like ships that
sail from port to port, one mission at a time. And women? We're the
water, flowing in and around, filling in all the gaps and keeping
everything afloat. I don't feel remotely bad for casting off this role
now and then and living just for me.

It
hasn't been easy to balance, for sure. I will certainly not be running
any more half marathons soon - after working all week, I have no desire
to leave my baby for 4 hours on a Sunday to get a long run in. The
work day is draining, not only because of the work, but because my
breaks are spent pumping breastmilk in a storage room, and my lunches,
rushing home or to daycare to feed my daughter and trying to make it
back in under 45 minutes. I refuse to let dad take over the bedtime
ritual so that I can make it to a class at the gym (besides
breastfeeding, it's the only quality time we have together some days,
and I regard that time as sacred), so between doing what I need to do
for class and prepping everything for the next day, I often don't have
time to exercise in the evenings.

And
yes, I have had several crises of confidence since returning to work.
Especially when I have to leave Amaliya at daycare, instead of at home
with her daddy or grandma. Truth - I still fight tears every time I
leave the infant room at daycare, and I reward myself with a Stell
coffee each time I make it out without leaking a tear. Why do I have to
leave my daughter with strangers? Why do I have to be the one to work
full time while my husband works part time? Why can't we be financially
stable enough for me to stay home with her? Why why why....

Traumatized daycare face. "Mama don't leave meeeee!"

The
whining and fist-shaking doesn't last long though. Because here's the
straight-up truth, and what I believe many women feel but are not
allowed to say: I am selfish, and glad that I'm selfish. I
unapologetically put my happiness first, before that of my family. And I
know in my core that we are all better off for it. I need to embrace,
every day, that part of me that is not defined by the love of my
family. It makes me a better person, a better mother, more patient and
gentle and present with my daughter and husband. This is not to
say there are not sacrifices - there have been sleepless nights
comforting a sick baby, days where I'm so busy taking care of her that I
forget to eat, and if it ever came down to a choice, my life for hers, I
wouldn't hesitate. But I am still a human, still a woman with an
identity of my own, and just because my daughter is worth the absolute
best that life has to offer, doesn't mean that I am worth any less.

So,
I work. I run. I cook, clean, occasionally find time to blog, read
books that are not even remotely related to babies or children, and
indulge in a glass (or two) of wine in the evening while simultaneously
patting myself on the back and congratulating myself on keeping it all
together. I don't do everything, and what I DO, I don't always do
well. But I do my best, my family is loved, and I am happy.